The Man Behind the Voice

Alessandro lay in bed wide awake long after he had finished talking with 20. He couldn't dismiss what she had so casually mentioned, and his mind replayed the tail end of their conversation over and over. 'There's only one way to get to the bottom of this matter,' he decided.

Immediately after arriving at his office the next morning, he called for Vincenzo. "How are the preparations for the ball going?" he asked almost as soon as the chief steward walked into the room.

"Everything is going well, Your Majesty," Vincenzo replied, bowing as he stood in front of the emperor who was at his desk.

Alessandro nodded. "I'd like the concubines to attend."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Vincenzo readily answered. "As per the empire's custom, the princesses and noble ladies will definitely attend."

"No," Alessandro clarified firmly. "Not just the princesses and nobles ladies." He interlaced his fingers together on the table and looked straight at the chief steward. "I want all of them to be at the ball."

"Do you mean including the ladies-in-waiting, Sire?" Vincenzo asked, wanting to be sure. He had been serving in the palace for well over two decades, back when the former emperor – Alessandro's father – was still in the throne. Starting out as a footman, he had worked his way up the ranks until he became the chief steward.

He had organized and overseen countless balls and soirees, both inside the palace grounds and outside of it. However, he couldn't remember a time when the emperor's lower ranked concubines were invited to attend. It was a given that the ladies-in-waiting would be in attendance, but they would be there to serve the princesses and noble ladies, not as guests.

Alessandro had enough grounds to believe that 20 was likely not a lady-in-waiting. Her tasks seemed a lot more tedious than those usually assigned to someone who held the position. "Are they all the official concubines I have?" he asked.

The emperor had never shown the slightest interest in any of his concubines that were ranked lower than a noble lady. Vincenzo blinked, momentarily surprised by the question, but he remained composed. "No, Sire," he said. "You also have a few palace maids and scullery maids."

"All right," Alessandro replied, taking a deep breath and bracing himself for the one thing he was actually concerned about. "How many concubines are there in the palace right now?" he asked.

"20, Your Majesty," Vincenzo informed him. "The newest is Concubine Number 20."

Alessandro went very still at this comment. "Concubine Number 20," he repeated, as though testing the name on his lips. "Is she a scullery maid?"

"Yes, Sire," Vincenzo confirmed.

"Very well," Alessandro replied, putting in considerable effort to appear indifferent and unaffected by what he just heard. Then he repeated his order to make sure it left no room for any misunderstanding on the chief steward's part. "I want all of the concubines to attend the ball as guests. All of them."

By now Vincenzo couldn't hide his surprise, and he gaped openly at the emperor. "Do you mean even the palace maids and scullery maids, Your Majesty?"

"How many times do I have to repeat myself?" Alessandro asked, trying to hold on to what's left of his patience.

"My apologies, Sire." Vincenzo cleared his throat. "I'll take note of it."

"You may go," Alessandro said. The chief steward bowed again and started to leave the room, but the emperor's last statement made him stop in his tracks. "Vincenzo," he said, his voice taking on a warning tone. "If Concubine Number 20 is not at the ball that evening, you will answer to me."

*****

A scullery maid. Alessandro couldn't believe she was a scullery maid – and at his own palace, no less. His heart constricted in pain at the thought of her on her knees, polishing the palace's long hallways, or being under the heat of the sun, doing a mountain of laundry. He was sorely tempted to call Vincenzo back and ask him to bring 20 to his office. But even as the thought entered his head, he knew he wouldn't do it. She was antsy enough at being asked to wash those damn dishes. If he revealed himself to her so presumptuously, she would be beyond horrified by it. And worse, she may not talk to him ever again.

Still, he couldn't just let it pass after learning of the fact. Too anxious to remain seated, he began to pace around his office. "20, are you there?"

I had just confirmed my first chore of the day – polishing the windows on the west wing – when I heard 1's voice. 'What's up with you?' I asked casually, smiling. We seldom reached out to each other randomly after we had already established our talk schedules. But I supposed I could easily hold the handkerchief inside my apron pocket while carrying a pail of water in my other hand, so it should be OK to chat briefly.

"I just wanted to make sure you're all right," Alessandro said, injecting a fair dose of cheerfulness in his voice. She was razor sharp, and she could easily sense when something was off with him.

'Well, I'm not yet washing the dishes,' I laughed. 'So I'm still fine.'

"Even if you do happen to break some dishes, it's going to be fine," Alessandro assured her.

'Easy for you to say,' I scoffed. 'How would you even know that?'

"I just do," Alessandro replied. 'I won't let anything happen to you,' he mentally added, although he knew she couldn't hear that.

I had finished my morning break with 19 when we heard that Madame Leone had called for both of us in her office. I hadn't actually been in her office since the day after I had arrived at the empire – which felt like a lifetime ago. 'What do you think this is about?' I asked 19 as we smoothed our aprons outside the office. Madame Leone was adamant that the servants should keep their uniforms clean and well pressed at all times, which was a feat in itself considering the chores we had to do every day.

'I guess we'll find out,' 19 grinned, knocking on the door.

I wracked my brain for anything that I may have done wrong recently – or something I had failed to do. But because I wasn't the only one being called, it was reasonable for me to believe that this was some sort of an announcement and not a reprimand. True enough, 19 and I walked in to find that there were already several other maids present.

"I know you may be confused while I called you here," Madame Leone began. "But I just got word from Monsieur Di Almarati."

Everyone looked at her expectantly. "The emperor orders all of his concubines to attend the upcoming ball," she continued.

"Does that mean we need to serve at the ball?" a palace maid asked.

"No," Madame Leone replied. "You will attend as guests." Immediately the room erupted in excited chatter, and Madame Leone loudly slapped her hands on the table to get the servants' attention again. When it was once more quiet, she continued, "You will each receive a gown corresponding to your rank, and you are expected to be at your absolute best behavior during the ball."

"Until the evening of the ball, though," she said, "you need to complete the tasks I had previously assigned to you." I fought the urge to groan. And here I thought I could do away with washing the dishes already. "You're dismissed."

The week following that brief meeting at Madame Leone's office, time seemed to fly in a rapid succession of activities. I went about my usual chores in the morning, and after lunch I did the dishwashing. Just as I expected, the dishes were heavy, and my arms screamed in protest as I washed and rinsed one plate after another. I barely even had enough strength left to hold on to the handkerchief during my talks with 1.

When I had mentioned to him about the emperor's order for all of his concubines to attend the ball, he asked, "And what do you think about that?"

'It doesn't matter what I think,' I told him truthfully. 'It's an order, not a request.'

Alessandro winced at her comment. It certainly didn't seem that she had a favorable impression of the emperor. He was dying to know if that impression will change – for the better – when she found out that his identity. "Maybe this will be your chance to share your thoughts with the emperor," he gently prodded.

I laughed. That sounded like something straight of a fairytale. "He's far too important and busy to even bother talking to me."

Alessandro smiled. She'll know soon enough that the emperor always had time for her. Always.

*****

Before I knew it, it was the evening of the ball. Monsieur Di Almarati had personally handed me my attire for the event, which included a gown, shoes, and hair accessories – along with a stern warning that I should, under any circumstance, make sure to attend. I almost rolled my eyes at the absurdity of the useless warning. I didn't have any death wish, so of course I would attend. It was an imperial order, after all.

And as I surveyed my reflection in the hazy mirror, I thought that I didn't look so bad. The gown was navy blue, simple and understated, and it hit just at my knees. The matching pair of shoes, also in navy blue, was low heeled – thank the heavens for that. I was never any good with stilettos, and I doubt I would fare better with an archaic version of the footwear. The hair accessory was a pin topped with a single flower. And to complete the ensemble, I just quickly tied my hair in a ponytail.

I heard a loud knock, followed by 19's excited voice. "Hurry up, 20!" I guessed I was ready as I could ever be. 'Let's go,' I said, meeting her at my door.